Resurrection
by crowleys-best-hellhound
Summary: Three years. It had been three years. John was still mourning for Sherlock when he comes back, but not as John remembered him. Note: I do not own the image, it is not mine.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own any of the characters._

_A/N: I will be writing more chapters soon! Enjoy!_

John sighed. Three years. Three years since his best friend died. The pain still hadn't gone away. Every second of every day John wished Sherlock was still alive, was still with him at 221B Baker Street. Part of John wondered if Sherlock was still alive but if he was still alive why would he make John think that he was dead? John sat up in his bed and pulled the covers off him. He saw Sherlock's death again last night. It still hurt every single time he remembered. "JOHNN!" He could hear Mrs Hudson calling. "We're out of milk, mind popping out to get some?" She continued. "Sure." John shouted back. He wanted to get out, distract himself.

His mind was full of thoughts, hopes, dreams, emotions and he couldn't properly focus on any one thing. He had lost friends before but he hadn't missed them this much, for this long. John turned and walked straight out into the road unaware of an impending bus travelling rapidly towards him suddenly John could feel him being pushed over, he could feel arms around him and something else, something soft, something feathery. The bus went past its horn blaring. People surrounded John looking at him in awe and amazement. The person who had saved him had gone as soon as they had pushed John over. Who was it?! He wanted to thank them!

Suddenly someone came up behind him whispered "time to go" and put their arms around Johns waist and before he knew it John was back in 221B Baker Street. John turned, wanting to see who had done this. There he saw him. But not as John had remembered him.

"YOU. HAVE. WINGS?!" John shouted a look of despair and confusion filled Johns face.

Sherlock shrugged and looked at his large black wings. "Er. Yeah." Silence filled the room, John was still staring at Sherlock in amazement.

"Was it you?" John finally asked. "Did you save my life?" John voice sounded agitated and exasperated. "Yes." Sherlock replied modestly.

"Thanks." John muttered.

"No problem." Sherlock looked at the ground, "I didn't think it was time for you to join me yet, you know, up there." Sherlock pointed upwards.

"So, you're dead? Are you an angel or something?"

"Apparently so, apparently I was wrong."

"Wouldn't be the first time." John's voice again had the sharp, angry tone that scared Sherlock.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock looked genuinely hurt by John's words.

"Why didn't you just let me die? I want to be with you!" John's face become gentler, but tears formed in his eyes, "I hate being without you, I am so alone."

"I'm sorry but I had to, Moriarty-" Sherlock started.

"DON'T YOU DARE... blame him! This was you; this was all you being selfish. You didn't have to kill yourself. You didn't have to do ANYTHING. You just wanted to because you were bored, you were bored and you wanted to boost your own FUCKING EGO. You wanted to make everyone think you were amazing, so perfect well you AREN'T! YOU ARE A SELFISH ARRAGANT PSYCHOPATH THAT NO ONE NEEDS. NO ONE NEEDS YOU WRECKING THIER LIVES ANY MORE SHERLOCK HOLMES. SO JUST GO AWAY!" Sherlock flinched and stepped away from John, his words felt like a punch to the stomach.

He held his head in shame as John put his own head in his hands.

"Sherlock I-" John couldn't finish that sentence, what he said was true, John didn't _need_ him but he _wanted _him.

"No, it's fine. All you said is true." Sherlock couldn't tell John the truth, make John feel guilty for his death.

John shook his head feebly. "Don't go," John quietly pleaded.

DING.

John got his phone out and opened up the new message.

_Saw your wings today in town Sherlock, you should see my horns-_

_JM.x._


	2. Chapter 2

"Sherlock."

"What? What is it?!"

"Look at this." John showed his phone screen to Sherlock whose face dropped.

"But, he shot himself in the head, I saw him do it!"

"I assumed he had moved to another country after you were gone... what are we going to do?" John looked so scared, petrified.

"He's probably watching you." John looked around, paranoid. "I need to get back to heaven and watch him."

"Please don't go again." John pleaded, tears filled his eyes.

"I'm sorry." Then Sherlock vanished.

John was all alone. Again. Well, he wasn't alone, Moriarty was watching him.

John sat down and sighed. Silence. Wait, where was Mrs Hudson? John stood up abruptly. "Mrs Hudson?!" No answer.

"MRS HUDSON?!" He shouted desperately. A sharp pain shot up his arm; he looked to see what was causing it. Oh no. John pulled out dart out from his arm and everything went black.

John's eyelids were extremely heavy. His head was pounding. He finally opened his eyes, the light hurt his eyes. There was an extremely bright light on him but the rest of this place was dark and dusty, it was very large but only had a few windows. It was empty expect for a few guards on the doors and a man in front of him.

"Hello again John." Moriarty.

"Where am I?" John didn't expect him to tell him.

"Don't worry about that. That's the least of your worries." Moriarty gave John an evil grin.

"Where's Sherlock?" Moriarty's smile went.

"Do you think..." Moriarty moved right next to Johns face, "I would have you here if I didn't have Sherlock, you are just the bait. And you're going to tell me where he is."

John moved his head away, he hands and legs were tied. "Well I don't know where he is."

Moriarty stepped away and the grin returned to his face. "Yes you do."

John paused for a moment and tried to work out what he could reply. "Even if I did, why the hell would I tell you?"

Again, Moriarty's grin grew. "Because if you don't..." Moriarty stepped closer to John and leaned down next to John's ear, "I'll kill everyone you care about."

John's eyes filled with tears and he bit his lip tight hoping Moriarty wouldn't notice.

"Who?" He had to know, had to know who would be sacrificed for Sherlock.

"Harriet, Mrs Hudson, _Lestrade."_

"Lestrade? Lestrade is dead. He killed himself." It was horrible; Lestrade blamed himself for Sherlock's suicide so he shot himself in the head straight after Sherlock's funeral. Mycroft found his body after he had visited to check if Greg was okay.

"He escaped purgatory. Hasn't been the same since though."

"How did he escape?"

"He had a gun. He fought his way out." Moriarty made a hand gesture to a guard at one of the doors. "Enough chat."

The guard re-entered holding Lestrade tightly. "Greg..." John didn't know what to say. He looked so rough. His face was muddied and covered in blood. His suit was ripped and soaked in blood. His eyes were big and his hair misplaced, he was unshaven and he'd grown a long grey beard.

Lestrade looked up, his face was emotionless. "John." His voice was croaky like he'd been choked. Moriarty grabbed Lestrade's arm violently and gestured for the guard to go back to the door.

Moriarty took out a handgun and put it against Lestrade's head. "Killing me won't achieve anything, I want to be dead." Lestrade turned and spat at Moriarty's face. Moriarty lowered his gun and grabbed Lestrade's wrist. He pulled his wrist in front of him.

_BANG. _

Lestrade's finger fell to the floor and blood poured out rapidly. Lestrade let out a quiet grunt. Moriarty looked shocked, like he expected more of a reaction.

John flinched. This was horrible. Where was Sherlock?

"So John..." Moriarty put the gun back to Lestrade's head, "WHERE IS SHERLOCK?!" Lestrade's eyes lit up. Suddenly, emotion filled his face.

"Sherlock's alive?!" He asked excitedly.

"No." John replies quickly. "But he's an angel." Lestrade snorted in derision.

"You know..." Moriarty sparked up, "He said to me before he died, I may be on the side of the angels but don't think for a second that I am one of them." Moriarty laughed. "Funny how these things turn out."

John just sat there, still stunned by the whole situation, blood was still pouring from Lestrade's hand.

"I don't know where he is." John finally said breaking the silence.

"Fine." Moriarty replied.

_BANG._

Lestrade's body fell to the ground.

Dead.

Again.

"You aren't going to get anything out of me, I don't know anything!" Tears ran down Johns face. This was all too much.

"Then you aren't any use to me are you?" Moriarty sighed and pointed the gun towards John.

"WAIT! Stop! I thought you said I was bait?"

"But he hasn't come, has he? He must not care about you anymore Johnny boy. Poor little John, all alone in this world. His best friend doesn't even want to know him." Moriarty circled John before lean down and whispering, "Won't even come to save him."

John looked down, embarrassed. "I don't need him." John whispered.

Moriarty stood up and pointed the gun at John again.

"Yes you do." That grin. If John gets out of this alive that grin will haunt him for the rest of his life.

"You are a monster."

"Tell me something I don't know." Moriarty leaned his face closer to John's and his eyes went all black for a few seconds before returning to normal. He stepped back again, laughing a deep, beastly laugh.

"Now, John Watson, I'm afraid you've got to die now." He pointed the gun at John's stomach.

_BANG._

John looked down, blood slowly soaked his jumper. John looked back up, his pleading eyes watched Moriarty walk away. "Bye bye John." He shouted in a sing-song voice as he walked away.

"Oh god." John whispered under his breath and covered the wound with his hands.

His mind was going fuzzy, his eyelids drooping.

"JOHNNNN!" Sherlock's voice sounded far away.

His eyelids closed and his life started draining out of him.

"Just hold on John. You're going to live, you're going to be fine." Sherlock's voice further and further away...

"Oh god no." Was the last thing John heard.

Sherlock kept his hand on John's pulse it was weak and slow. He couldn't lose John. It wasn't John's time to go. Sherlock put his hands on the wound and focused all his power on healing it.

John's pulse slowly became stronger and faster. John took in a deep breath and his eyes opened suddenly. Sherlock finally took his hands off when the wound finally healed and Sherlock collapsed backwards.

John looked down and felt the area where he had been shot.

"Sherlock!" John rushed to his side and searched for a pulse. John found it, it was a little slow. "You really need to stop saving me Sherlock Holmes." John whispered as his head collapsed onto Sherlock's chest.

"Hello again." Sherlock said under his breath, his eyes still closed. John's head jerked up. Sherlock opened up his eyes and sat up. "I need to protect you John. I want to." Sherlock stared into John's eyes.

"I want to be with you Sherlock!" Sherlock shook his head.

"It isn't your time."

"Stop saying that, shouldn't that be my choice?!" Sherlock sighed and stood up.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that too. And what took you so long?!"

"I was trying to avoid Moriarty. I didn't think he would shoot you though."

"What about Lestrade?!" John looked at Lestrade's body still lying there on the cold, hard ground.

"I can't save everyone John." John sighed.

"Let's just go home."

"Your home. I live in heaven now." Sherlock looked down, like he was ashamed to leave John alone again.

"Please stay this time."

"I can't." Sherlock put his arms around John and a second later they were in 221B.

"If you're going to go, leave now." John walked over to the sofa and flopped down.

Sherlock looked at the floor. "I'm-"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry again. It doesn't mean anything, sorry means you're not going to do it again."

Sherlock looked at his friend again before disappearing.

John started crying, tears ran down his face.

That night, as John was sleeping, Sherlock watched over him.

Keeping the nightmares away.

Nothing would ever hurt John again.

But Sherlock kept hurting John so it was obvious what he had to do.

Sherlock leaned down beside him and kissed his forehead for the last time.

"Goodbye John." Tears ran down Sherlock's face.

"I love you John Hamish Watson."


End file.
